Kari walked up the front steps of her house. She heard yelling from
inside, but it didn't bother her. She barely even heard it. She was
distracted by the thoughts of the evening. Not that the evening had been
very fun, her date had stood her up. But that boy.he was so hot, her friend
Jesse would have been all over him if she had been with her at the time.
She recalled the boy's graceful features as she made her way silently to her room, avoiding the room her parents were in. She hoped they didn't notice her. That was the last thing she needed. She was almost at her room
"Kari Anne! Get in here now!" came her father's yell. Then she heard her mother's pleading to keep Kari out of it. A glass broke. It would all be Kari's fault in the morning. Her father was drunk and would not remember any of this the next morning, so he would blame it on Kari.
Slowly, she made her way to the kitchen. Her mother's face was streaked with tears. Her father was clutching a Bud.
When she entered the kitchen, her father rounded on her. "Kari, what the hell do you think you are doing getting home so late? Your mother and I have been expecting you home for two hours!" He screamed in her face. Kari backed to the wall. This was one of his dangerous binges. Kari needed to be careful.
But he got closer. "Don't you ever, ever think of doing it again, do you understand me?" He raised his hand.
She shielded her face. "Yes daddy, I understand."
But the hand came down. And on its way, it bunched into a fist. It slammed into Kari's cheek and knocked her to the ground. Her mother screamed at her husband to stop, and her father turned on her.
"Kari, go! Leave now!" her mother yelled. She clutched her cheek and ran out the front door.
She kept running. She wasn't going anywhere in particular, but she ended up in the park. She chose a bench and sat down, holding her knees. Then the memories began flowing.
She was eight years old when social services came for the first time, and only time. They had gotten reports from her teachers about the bruises.
Her father had answered the door. They told him they only wanted to ask a few questions and to see Kari. Her father let them in graciously, apologizing for the mess.
He called Kari from her room. He took her hand tenderly, fatherly, and led her to the living room where the social services people sat. They had asked her and her father questions.
"Do you drink much, sir?" one of them had asked.
Her father answered, "I have a few beers with the guys from work every once in awhile, and I have a beer while I'm watching football. But I never get drunk."
Kari was still too young to know this was a lie, but something about this was wrong, she knew it was.
She looked up. She was back in the dark park. She was suddenly afraid, suddenly aware that something was wrong here. She should be at home, with her family. But she was in a park, scared, alone.
A hand touched her shoulder. She screamed and turned around.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." It was the boy. Kari stuttered a quick hello.
"I don't think we had time to get properly introduced. I'm Chris, what's your name?" His tone was rich and deep, and Kari fell in love with it.
"I'm Kari. Why are you out this late?" Kari didn't realize how stupid that was until the words were out of her mouth.
Chris smiled, his dark eyes twinkling happily. "I would ask the same to you. But there's no need for questions. Would you like to come to a party with me tonight? I mean, I know it's late, but it didn't look like you were heading home anytime soon."
He looked at her. Their eyes met. Kari was caught suddenly, in a strange whirl of happiness. Yes, her mind told her, go with him, have fun. But she knew also that her parents would be angry.
Kari pulled herself away from his eyes. There was a hint of annoyance in his eyes, yet he was still so handsome.
"Sure, I'll go with you," Kari found herself answering. Forget her parents, they didn't care about her anyway.
A smile stretched across Chris's face. He held out his hand. Kari took it. He led her off, Kari hardly noticed.
She recalled the boy's graceful features as she made her way silently to her room, avoiding the room her parents were in. She hoped they didn't notice her. That was the last thing she needed. She was almost at her room
"Kari Anne! Get in here now!" came her father's yell. Then she heard her mother's pleading to keep Kari out of it. A glass broke. It would all be Kari's fault in the morning. Her father was drunk and would not remember any of this the next morning, so he would blame it on Kari.
Slowly, she made her way to the kitchen. Her mother's face was streaked with tears. Her father was clutching a Bud.
When she entered the kitchen, her father rounded on her. "Kari, what the hell do you think you are doing getting home so late? Your mother and I have been expecting you home for two hours!" He screamed in her face. Kari backed to the wall. This was one of his dangerous binges. Kari needed to be careful.
But he got closer. "Don't you ever, ever think of doing it again, do you understand me?" He raised his hand.
She shielded her face. "Yes daddy, I understand."
But the hand came down. And on its way, it bunched into a fist. It slammed into Kari's cheek and knocked her to the ground. Her mother screamed at her husband to stop, and her father turned on her.
"Kari, go! Leave now!" her mother yelled. She clutched her cheek and ran out the front door.
She kept running. She wasn't going anywhere in particular, but she ended up in the park. She chose a bench and sat down, holding her knees. Then the memories began flowing.
She was eight years old when social services came for the first time, and only time. They had gotten reports from her teachers about the bruises.
Her father had answered the door. They told him they only wanted to ask a few questions and to see Kari. Her father let them in graciously, apologizing for the mess.
He called Kari from her room. He took her hand tenderly, fatherly, and led her to the living room where the social services people sat. They had asked her and her father questions.
"Do you drink much, sir?" one of them had asked.
Her father answered, "I have a few beers with the guys from work every once in awhile, and I have a beer while I'm watching football. But I never get drunk."
Kari was still too young to know this was a lie, but something about this was wrong, she knew it was.
She looked up. She was back in the dark park. She was suddenly afraid, suddenly aware that something was wrong here. She should be at home, with her family. But she was in a park, scared, alone.
A hand touched her shoulder. She screamed and turned around.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." It was the boy. Kari stuttered a quick hello.
"I don't think we had time to get properly introduced. I'm Chris, what's your name?" His tone was rich and deep, and Kari fell in love with it.
"I'm Kari. Why are you out this late?" Kari didn't realize how stupid that was until the words were out of her mouth.
Chris smiled, his dark eyes twinkling happily. "I would ask the same to you. But there's no need for questions. Would you like to come to a party with me tonight? I mean, I know it's late, but it didn't look like you were heading home anytime soon."
He looked at her. Their eyes met. Kari was caught suddenly, in a strange whirl of happiness. Yes, her mind told her, go with him, have fun. But she knew also that her parents would be angry.
Kari pulled herself away from his eyes. There was a hint of annoyance in his eyes, yet he was still so handsome.
"Sure, I'll go with you," Kari found herself answering. Forget her parents, they didn't care about her anyway.
A smile stretched across Chris's face. He held out his hand. Kari took it. He led her off, Kari hardly noticed.